You guessed it- Montana!

 In what is becoming a yearly seasonal pilgrimage, we set out early on a rainy Saturday morning, eastbound to Montana.  Packed to the gills with fishing and photography gear, the raft, and clothes to cover the full spectrum of weather, we pulled out of the driveway remarkably close to our goal time of 6 am.  Before we knew it, we were descending into Spokane.  We made a pit stop for lunch just outside of Coeur d'Alene to have lunch with a former patient of mine and his wife onsite at their expansive property bordering hundreds of acres of National Forest Land. I keep my boundaries pretty well defined between professional and personal, but this is one of the few exceptions.  I just loved working with those two (because yes, you treat the patient and the family), and I've stayed in touch with them over the 6 months or so since they left Washington for Idaho.  After a nice visit, we were on our way, arriving in Missoula just in time to watch UNC end Coach K's legendary career.  And yes, I did cry.  

We had time to kill before checking into our rental in Emigrant, so we took the scenic route to the Madison River as it was one of the most fishable rivers given a recent spell of unseasonably warm temperatures causing a pre spring runoff, turning Rock Creek and some others into chocolate milk.  To our surprise, the Madison was uncrowded for a Sunday.  Gusty winds always helps keep the Jerrys at bay.  We went to a familiar stretch of water where we knew Birch could be off his leash, had a quick bite of lunch in the truck and then got after it.  We had a lot of action with multiple fish each.  My best fish, a good sized brown, managed to spit out the hook, robbing me of an up-close encounter.  No matter, having success like that is always welcome.  As we headed toward Emigrant, we spotted a moose feeding just off the side of the road, and after stopping for a couple of pics, we barreled onward. 

While it wasn't our original plan, we arrived at our rental house past dark and unloaded all of our gear at our home base for the next 5 days.  Our initial plan had been to go into Yellowstone at the NE entrance at pre-sunrise in hopes of seeing some animals, but we thought better of it and took a few extra hours to sleep and get the vacation off to a more leisurely start.  We headed to the park mid-morning, and while we knew we would likely miss out on the early risers- wolves and bears- there was no shortage of elk, bison, pronghorn, bighorn sheep, and birds of prey.  Still weary from the trip out and with a whopper of a storm brewing and blowing in, we headed back to the house just after lunchtime.  We had of course checked the weather, the but howling winds, sideways snow, and awful visibility gave us a preview of the reality of our next couple of days.  Once back at the house, we walked down to the Yellowstone River, just a seven minute jaunt from the property.  Birch got to meet the horses.  He was not a big fan, and I think the feeling was mutual.  We got rained, hailed, and snowed on while down at the river, so it was back up to the house to warm up and watch UNC blow the national championship game (against anyone but Kansas, I would have found it immensely satisfying)

What a difference a day makes...

A very Montana moment

The weather looked better, but was it?

We once again booked two consecutive days on a spring creek, the first of which was Tuesday.  It was also the day we were to meet up there with our friend Halie (Cole was attending a fly fishing show in Germany- lucky dog).  Sustained winds ranged from 35-45 with gusts up to 70 mph with high temps in the upper 30's.  Based on that information, we were in no hurry to get going in the morning, especially when we saw an inch of snow on the ground at our house.  We met up with Halie around 10:15, dressing and getting our gear ready in one of the warming huts.  We set out for our old reliable spot where we had a couple of unsuccessful hookups before taking refuge once again in the hut for lunch.  Realizing we were going to have to explore new water given our go to was not fruitful and the other 13 people on the creek were pretty well dispersed, we took the opportunity to seek out some other spots.  Finally after a long wait, I hooked into a colorful and well fed rainbow that I managed to get to the net.  It felt like a true accomplishment, sight fishing to fish I could see in three feet of water, casting between wind gusts.  Eventually toward the end of the day, the wind died down enough that we started seeing some fish rising.  I watched a huge brown leap out of the water repeatedly near one of the Fool's Gold holes.  You know the kind, the ones that look and are too good to be true, the ones everyone fishes and never catch anything.  I've been that person more than I care to admit, but this time, that brown leapt from the water as soon as my cripple BWO hit the surface.  I set the hook and watched the brute roll and somersault in mid-air, freeing himself and returning to the deep pool, unlikely to feed above the surface for the rest of the day.  My consolation is that Halie saw it because it was such a cool and memorable take.  Those moments make it all worth it- it's really not about catching the fish most of the time.  Our good weather fortune was about to turn as another round of clouds and snow rolled in, and we decided to call it a day after watching some spawners for a few minutes (these areas were thankfully closed to angling, and everyone present respected the closure and well-being of the wild fish).  Memorable conditions, good company, and a great start.  

Shaun getting into a chunky rainbow and Halie offering the net

Teddy the dog, hostage in the truck

Where our fortune started to turn

Halie working the run

Finally

 

The next day was an even colder but with more sunshine and winds 25-35 with gusts of 40... and it's amazing how that felt in comparison to the prior day.  It may as well have been windless, we were so grateful.  We went to our lucky spot from the day before and found fish to be holding in the same water, though this time, we didn't have the luxury of rippled water as the winds were pretty calm first thing.  I floated a red zebra midge through, trailing behind a beadhead scud.  On my second or third cast, I had a sizable taker.  It was a beautiful fish, and we were lucky to get some nice underwater shots of it.  Shaun caught another out of an adjacent hole soon after, and we felt confident after our fortuitous start.  We decided to move on as the commotion ad spooked the other fish.  We went back to our first spot from the previous day.  We each had a couple of fish on but nothing to net.  At the end of the day, we returned to our money hole and found a few more fish to close out a beautiful day.   

First fish of the day

Shaun's first fish of the day

The happiest rainbow

Sunshine

Lunch with a view

The first time I've been able to shed my down jacket the whole trip

Winding down day two

Initially, our intention was to head into the park at sunrise for some wildlife viewing, but after grinding it out in the weather the previous two days, getting up at four in the morning lost all of its appeal.  Instead, we slept in a little and decided to head down the the Yellowstone at the periphery of the property and fish there before heading into the park for a tailgate dinner and sunset.  We dodged the horses this time, crossing the shallow channel to the main stem of the mighty Yellowstone.  On the first couple of casts I had a fish, immediately recognizing it as a mountain whitefish based on its subdued fight, like dragging a wet towel in from a river bottom.  From there, it was basically a whitefish every single cast.  That was fun for about half an hour.  We decided to head back for lunch and prepare to head up to Gardiner.  

Please take me to the river

From here it looks like a trout, right?

The cutest calf in the world

We stopped at a couple of public fishing access areas along the way as we had a couple of hours to kill, and once again, we hauled in whitefish after whitefish.  The scenery and amazing weather tempered the disappointment of not catching any trout, and Birch got to lick the elk leg from a few days prior.

Oh good, my bones/leg are still here

Once again, we crossed into the park, and almost immediately we started seeing wildlife- bison, elk, deer, bighorns, and even a few pronghorn.  We also saw a bison carcass with some crows and a lone bald eagle feeding on the flesh.  Our plan was to head to Lamar Valley but then return to the carcass at dusk to see if some kind of predator would make its way down for an evening snack.  The bison jam had other ideas.  Once in Lamar Valley, we stopped for a few photos but then continued driving past Soda Butte,  where we saw a coyote hunting, Pebble Creek, and in the direction of Cooke City.  Once we started seeing more snow, we elected to turn around and secure a spot in Lamar for sunset.  That proved to be a simple task as we were the only ones there- not something you can often say about Yellowstone.  We fired up the jet boil for some chicken teriyaki and three cheese macaroni, watching the bison lumber about as the timer ticked down to dinner time.  After dinner, we pushed back west toward the carcass, but we were foiled as multiple animal jams slowed our progress, and we arrived to the carcass well after dark.  Shrug.  

Fancy dinner

We had hoped to head to Melrose and float the Big Hole River, but the weather was forecasting high winds, and by this time, we had just about had enough of the wind, so we pivoted and headed toward West Yellowstone instead, stopping along the Gallatin to fish along the way.  It was mid 60's with partially sunny skies, so the fisher people were out in full force, which necessitated exploring some new spots.  We found a couple of beauties and pulled a couple of rainbows out of the water before finishing up in our super secret obvious spot on the Madison just at dusk, where we'd seen fish rising furiously early in our trip and on other occasions in the past.  I finally got the first brown of the trip, a slender snaky one, not at all what you picture when you think of Madison River brown trout.  We headed back to our cabin in West Yellowstone, knowing the next day would be our last day fishing for this trip, and our last chance to land a nice brown.  And since rules are rules, we polished off the champagne we saved for the first brown trout of the trip.

This place is special.  We scattered our other dogs' ashes here as it was a place we brought them.

Whoopsie

I love this dog

Closing it down

To brown trout

We woke to clear skies and cold temps and of course, more wind.  We had in mind to fish Three Dollar Bridge very early before the crowds descended, given it was a "nice by Montana in April standards Saturday."  We were quite surprised to be one of two vehicles in the lot.  Of course, when we looked at the river, we knew why.  Gone was the pocket water we expected- the river was alarmingly low.  Realizing we had no chance here, we packed up and headed closer to Ennis.  We did not repeat the same success we had the Sunday prior, so we decided to try one last spot before beginning the journey home.  We stepped into a spot that had two runs, one for each of us, and I opted for the shallower wade because by this point I was already freezing.  I was just about to reach my tap out point, when I summoned the last of my gumption for just a few more casts, even though I was now in full shade.  As I watched my indicator intently, suddenly and powerfully it was ripped under the water.  I set the hook and began to play the fish.  There was a lot of head shaking but not much running, so I started to worry it was another whitefish, but then when it rolled and tumbled in an effort to dislodge the fly, I recognized that vibrant butter belly- a brown, a big brown!!  It began to pull and fight even harder, and I knew I would have a hard time netting it myself, so Shaun began to make his way downstream of me to assist.  I have a tendency to panic when I have a big fish, maybe it's just shock haha, but I suppressed those feelings of doubt and systematically worked the trout toward the net.  He was beautiful and had apparently recently survived a tangle with a bird of prey, talon scratches along his side and an almost healed puncture on the top of his head.  We both sighed, thankful to have a chance to admire this beauty, and then it was time to let him go.  The familiar F you tail slap on the water, and he was gone.  All that was left was a quick swig of whiskey, and I was fully contented for the day.  We walked back to the car, sad to leave but gratified in our efforts, not just this day but all of the days.  

Water is crazy low

There he is!!

Some love scratches from a bird of prey

Mmm whiskey

Traveling to Montana in April is always a crapshoot, but it's best to just embrace the unexpected, resolve to not be held back by weather and circumstances.  Sure there are things about growing older I could do without (looking at you shit tanked metabolism and everything hurts when I sleep wrong), but the mental flexibility is an element I'm really starting to enjoy.  I don't worry as much when things don't go as planned because I know eventually, I'll get another shot and maybe that day will be better, and maybe it won't, but I won't know the difference.  

Until next time